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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515899">The Fabled Duel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chandelier_s_Notebook/pseuds/Chandelier_s_Notebook'>Chandelier_s_Notebook</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dangerous Pink [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cake, Fencing, Gen, Sword Fighting, The Duel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:20:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chandelier_s_Notebook/pseuds/Chandelier_s_Notebook</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After pestering, Dream and Techno stop skating around each other at the Fencing Club. But they make the event as anticlimactic as possible in protest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu &amp; Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dangerous Pink [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168250</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Fabled Duel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sandy haired boy had quickly risen the ranks, becoming one of the best in the club. But he and the pink haired kid always seemed to miss each other.</p><p>The patrons were ready for a fight between the two. They were ready to bet. They were ready to watch these two boys duke it out.</p><p>The consistent winner of years passed. And the new kid in town, who’d been watching from the shadows for a while now.</p><p> </p><p>The day of the duel came. Overhyped beyond belief. They grabbed their weapons and started to dance.</p><p>But it was not what the patrons wanted. Well it was. But not entirely.</p><p>There was none of that flashy stuff. No long, drawn out spares. No leaping out of the ring to climb the rafters. No <em>clang clang clang clang </em>above their heads a tempo. It was quick. And it was dirty.</p><p>Actually they were very clean fights. Under a minute each. Minimal blood.<br/>But that’s not good for spectator sport.</p><p>The two were under immense pressure for their supporters to win. This was their rebellion.</p><p> </p><p>Between rounds, they would clean up nicks and such. They would also be a reprise to get ready for the next duel. They had agreed before hand, 10 individual duels. No tie breakers.</p><p>In that time, the sandy haired boy would talk to himself. What he did wrong. What he did right. What he would focus on in the next one. With his bandana wearing best friend hyping him up to the stars.</p><p>Our potato boy was silent. His musician acquaintance the person in his corner. Him and his dancer baker friend. Cheering him on, not really sure how much help they could be in not knowing a thing about sword fighting.<br/>He was just happy they were there are him.</p><p> </p><p>He let out a breath. 5-4. He’d win or he’d tie. He was finally calm.</p><p>Sandy on his back. Sword at his neck. Calling out mercy. 6-4</p><p> </p><p>The champion lowered his sword and stuck out his hand to pull his competitor up.</p><p>Sandy them raised their hands over their heads, proclaiming the pink aired boy the winner.</p><p>To each other, they muttered under their breaths:</p><p>“Train for another one thousand years.”</p><p>“Goddamnit.”</p><hr/><p>After the flight, he flipped up the hood of his green cloak. Taking the long way home with his friend. Trying his best not to sulk up the alleys and roads of Port.</p><p>The pink haired boy followed his performer friends to the Sweet Shoppe &amp; Bakery. Eating some food the girl’s mother had left out.</p><p> </p><p>The two downtrodden boys passed the Shoppe. They heard the little jingle of the bell and ran inside when the dancer beckoned.</p><p>Thanking her for the slice of cake they three had started.</p><p>It was a bit awkward at first. Before the duelists started comparing. Friendly posturing. Calming banter.</p><p>“Child.”</p><p>“You’re older by like a month!”</p><p>“Child.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s your deal man? I’ve seen you loading sacks of produce onto the trade ships. You need a job man? Because there are less labour intensive jobs that pay much more than the docks do. You could some work for my family.”</p><p>“I’m a farmer. I live out in the country. Manual labour is my middle name.”</p>
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